


Enemy

by callmechristinae



Series: Livejournal Migration [14]
Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-03
Updated: 2006-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-26 21:43:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmechristinae/pseuds/callmechristinae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roger thinks back over his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enemy

You know how when you’re little, you can’t even wrap your head around the idea that someone would take their own life? I mean, after all, you start bawling when you scrape your knee playing baseball, so how could someone maintain enough composure to slit their own wrists? Yet, you’re keenly aware that people do kill themselves and you’re so upset that someone could be that sad and not get any help. You don’t understand that either.  
  
Then you get older. High school sucks, especially when you’re the kid on the outside. You tell yourself that you’re a rebel; that you don’t want to be involved with the “popular” crowd. But, no one really chooses to be the outcast. I know I didn’t. I was the “bad boy” the girls supposed went gaga over, never acting on to gaga eyes they sent me as I smoked behind the gym.  
  
Then high school finally ended. All the other kids went off to college, talking to each other about how they were going to decorate their dorms and what they want their roommates to be like and all that good stuff. I was on the outside again. I remember sitting on the couch in my cousin’s house during his graduation party as my aunt gushed to everyone within earshot about her youngest going away to some top college. My extended family kept asking me where I was going to school and I got so tired of explaining that I wasn’t going to college that I would just respond, “New York.” Whether they thought I was talking about NYU or what, I don’t know.  
  
So, there I was in New York, trying to make it as a big rock star. People were barely listening when we were the free entertainment, how could I expect them to invest their hard earned money? I lived in the back of our drummer’s car, had exactly two outfits worth of clothes, and had to mooch food off whatever fine establishment we were playing at. Life sucked, but, then again, what else did I expect? Glory?  
  
That’s when I began to understand how all those people you talked about in health class felt. It wasn’t that they wanted to die, specifically. At least, not all of them. Some wanted to escape the world they were trapped in, and they saw that as the only way out. Others were just tired and wanted to be able to rest forever. Even others just wanted someone to rescue them.  
  
I don’t know exactly where I fit in. I guess it was a combination. I was just so goddamn tired of life sucking. I wanted someone there to take care of me for a change. But, I started forgetting about all that stuff when everything began to turn for the better.  
  
I got a free place to stay with a philosophy professor I had met. They were two dropouts from Brown and one of their girlfriends too. I didn’t know how close we were all going to get, with the exception of Benny. He and I never really meshed. Mark and I got really close though, and things got even better when Maureen finally left. And then I met April.  
  
She was so bright and full of life, making every room she was in just glow with this wonderful youthful presence. She inspired so many songs, and our band began to take off. People flocked around me, just wanting to touch me and soak in my supposed glory. Any dark thoughts vanished from my mind. I didn’t even think twice about the liquid happiness April and I enjoyed. I mean, everything was going so great, how could something like a little heroin fuck it up?  
  
God did it ever. I come home one day and find my best friend covered in my girlfriend’s tainted blood. Everything just started spiraling out of control from there. Collins went away to MIT, Benny sold out, the band fell apart, and I didn’t even have my drugs. To top it all off, I had AIDS. It didn’t help that I could hear Mark crying in his room whenever he thought I was sleeping.  
  
It was hard. Of course it was. Withdrawal isn’t like a fucking walk in the park. I wanted to hurt something, find someone to blame for what had happened to me. I wanted to fight back against what or who had ruined my life. Mark was usually the one who got in the way, and it hurts whenever I catch a glimpse of the scars I gave him. He might say that I got sucked into the lifestyle of rock and roll, that it wasn’t really my fault. But I know that it was. I’m the one who decided to come to New York, to get involved with that scene, to do the drugs, to not be careful. It cost me everything but my one true friend. I think I might have followed April if he hadn’t always been there with me, helping me through. I’m finally recovering, and I think I might even be happy.   
  
It was hard not having someone else to blame, to beat to a pulp over what had happened. And, usually, if you can’t beat someone up, you can at least avoid them for the most part.  
  
Do you know how hard it was to have to face your greatest enemy whenever you looked in the mirror?


End file.
